Scars
by Offin
Summary: Not all of his scars are from physical battles, some are from battles far harder than any he's faced before. Battles with himself. Rated for dark and sexual themes! Contains some Conyuu Conrad-centric. Conrad x Yuuri (with side pairings)


Not all of his scars are from physical battles. Some of them are from battles far harder to fight than any he's faced before.

Battles with himself.

 _ **Drip. Drip. Drip.**_

In the candle-lit darkness of his room, Conrad is feeling.

He rarely does these days; _feels._

Even with his shining sun, his bubbly and energetic godson Yuuri at his side..

Conrad still finds it impossible to dream, his heart having been frozen for so long that it finally turned to stone.

That doesn't mean he can't smile at his king, at his brothers, at princess Greta.

He smiles all the time.

 _'Would you like to play catch, Conrad?' a smile, 'Of course, Yuuri.'_

 _'Will you read to me, uncle Conrad?' a smile, 'Of course, Greta.'_

 _'I apologize; I need you once more.' a smile, 'Of course Gwendal. Who is my target this time?'_

Now, for every time he stretched his lips that day, but felt nothing- he etches another line into his skin.

No... not _his_ skin. The skin of a man long dead- borrowed flesh, forcefully attached to what remained of his left arm.

He's a freak of nature- even in this world which Yuuri calls 'incredibly bizarre.'

It's okay though, because he is still alive. All's not lost if he can still feel pain.

 _Such a mess._

Not just the blood, mind you. Himself- his life- everything about him is.

He wishes it would all just end and is acutely aware that thoughts like this aren't normal; aren't healthy.

But he doesn't care about that now.

Yuuri had almost caught him once.

The young king had knocked on his door in the middle of the night, causing Conrad to scramble to his feet to hide his destructive, yet cherished ritual.

But Yuuri hadn't noticed and Conrad wondered if Yuuri was just naive, or if instead, he had become just that good at manipulating his king.

Now, he paces his room, bleeding out.

He hates leaving messes for others- however, it's all he ever does.

He leaves messes for his mother, his brothers, his king- the maids.. he no longer lets them tidy up his room.

He can mop up his emotions off the floor by himself. He was at least good for that, wasn't he?

"Captain." there was a soft knock at the door and Conrad paused his staggering steps.

"Conrart I know you're there, let me in. I have something for you."

Conrad pondered only for a second- before giving in. It was Yozak, and of all the people in this world and the next, Yozak knew everything about him.

Yozak wouldn't be shocked.

He unlocked the door and let the redhead open it himself, his large frame slipping into Conrad's room easily- before the door clicked behind him.

Yozak's eyes scanned the room carefully. Conrad was doing rather well tonight compared to some he'd encountered.

"I got you what you need.. Hell Captain- I should have remembered to bring a mop, you've got blood everywhere." Yozak muttered, slipping the cloth bag he'd been carrying onto Conrart's bare desk before helping his friend sit on the bed.

There was a reason Conrad's room was so sparse, it was easier to clean that way.

Yozak pulled up the only chair in the room, and sat in front of his friend, who was silent.

"Not in the mood to chat tonight, huh." Yozak spoke mostly to himself as he looked over Conrad's arms, pulling bandages and different items from the bag.

"I'm not done yet." Conrad said quietly, eyeing the bandages and Yozak lifted an eyebrow.

"Well.. I can't give you this until you're finished." he motioned to the ruddy glass and metal needle in one of his hands.

Conrad fidgeted.

He badly wanted that needle. His eyes traced it, before locking once again on Yozak.

"Alright.. I'm done.. just.. please.."

Yozak figured that would be his answer. He began cleaning Conrart's wounds, carefully stitching the deeper ones before wrapping them snugly with clean white bandages.

When he was finished, he began to wipe the blood from his hands and Conrart's face, before _finally_ picking up the needle and wrapping a cord tightly around Conrart's upper arm.

Conrad waited impatiently for Yozak to fill the needle from a small bottle, and position it at one of his veins, he was practically trembling as the clear fluid was injected into his arm. Once it was and the needle had been removed, he let his head fall forwards to rest on Yozak's shoulder, as the slightly larger male pulled his friend into a careful embrace.

"It's okay, you're alright." he said roughly, carefully untying the cord around Conrad's arm.

As soon as he did, Conrad gasped, the drugs flooding his system with every beat of his heart.

He groaned in pain and bliss as the narcotic took over his conscious and Yozak lifted him into his bed.

"Heh.. Sorry I tricked you Captain, that wasn't your usual poison. Just a sleep-aid this time.. I wish you'd stop this." he sighed, tucking the other in under the covers.

"It's really going to kill you one of these days, either you or the drugs. One is going to win.." his voice shook, but Conrart couldn't hear him- he was almost gone.

"But I suppose you're better now than before, huh buddy?" Yozak joked practically to himself, in reference to a time when Conrad was addicted to multiple vices at a time- and Yozak hadn't known. Those times were far worse, since no one had kept an eye on him as he spiraled close to death on a nightly basis.

So long as Yozak did this, Conrad would keep him close, where Yozak knew he could keep an eye on his friend and keep him alive, and so long as he was alive, there was a chance and there was hope.

Hope that one day Conrad would turn around, and finally begin letting his loved ones help him out of his grave depression.

A hole he'd dug alone.

Yozak stood in the center of the room, and heaved a heavy sigh. "I guess I gotta clean all this up now, huh?" he shook his head.

"You're _such a mess._ "

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Celi's crystal laughter filled the air as the previous queen entertained a group of lady-guests over tea in one of the castle's luxurious drawing rooms.

"I know!" she laughed, "It's why I always keep three, just in case!" she said in reference to different outfits for different occasions. The topic of their simple, girlish conversation.

There was a soft knock at the door, as Conrad entered, dressed in white. He crossed the room gracefully and planted a kiss on his mother's cheek.

"Conrart, darling!" she squealed upon his entry, "Oh, you must meet my lady friends from Caloria, I met them when I stopped there with Fanfan." she laughed, motioning for him to join them.

He gave them a charming and flashy smile before sitting beside his mother and pouring tea. "Do introduce me, mother." his voice was light and amused as the three other occupants giggled, clearly interested in meeting the young man.

"This is Evelyn, Rose- her husband is Lord Gingritch from Hildyard, and Lucille." she gestured to each woman, "This is my second son, Conrart." she cooed and Conrart couldn't help but catch the sudden falter in their smiles as she mentioned which son exactly that he was.

He sipped his tea, smiled, and nodded at them. "It's a pleasure to meet you all, and to have you in our kingdom." he said easily, though really.. he was only here because his mother asked him to join her for tea. He held no interest in any of the three women before him.

In fact, as they began to speak, Conrad's mind immediately became bored and began to wander.

He pictured the women before him, all with terrified faces as he ripped their blouses, and perhaps brought a knife to their tender skin, he could almost hear their shrill screams and pleas of mercy, and his lips twitched as he thought about it, eyes ghosting over each woman before him.

Those images, he was sure, also weren't healthy- but so long as they stayed within his skull, everything was fine, right?

No one could read his thoughts, after all.

He had nothing against women.. it was just a daydream of a perhaps twisted soldier. Though he could tell already that these women didn't like him, merely because of his blood.

Half human, half demon.

Although they remained polite, out of respect for their new friend, (his mother) he could tell that without her presence they wouldn't act the same way.

"Pardon, Conrart.. was it?" one of the women spoke, attempting to gain his attention.

Conrart's cold gaze but warm smile was directed on her. "Yes, Lucille, was it?" he imitated her and she giggled nervously. Conrart had secretly meant to mock her.

"You were a part of the war 20 years ago, weren't you?"

His eyes scrunched into happy arches, before his mother could get a good look at them. "Why, yes I was. Why do you ask?" Celi felt the air go still.

"Well, it was just that, my brother had been in that war- he was part of the human brigade that met with the Luttenberg Division at the front lines.. during that time.."

"Oh, dear, it was such a long time ago- why all this dark talk all of the sudden?" Celi tried to lighten and change the conversation, but Lucille politely ignored her.

"I'm sorry, it's just that- I know there were only two survivors from that battle, and you were one of them- I was wondering if you could tell me more about that day, so I could better understand what my brother went through."

Conrad wasn't smiling anymore, his face was carefully neutral as he set his tea down and looked her in the eyes. "Not to be rude, my lady, but what he witnessed I'm sure you can imagine on your own. Your brother witnessed the end of his life there. There were thousands of soldiers just like him who saw the same thing. I refuse to recount details of the deaths of those men."

She fisted her hands in her lap, and twisted her skirt between her fingers. "I-I see.. I'm sorry for asking, I was j-just wondering perhaps if it rained, that day?"

The question took Conrad off-guard and he had to think for a moment, bringing back memories of the war- which he had wanted to avoid.

The fact that she still managed to somehow make all the mental images rush back to him, even though he'd so bluntly cut her down, enraged him.

"Yes." he said coldly. "It rained after the battle, and it put the fires out." he stood up with a sigh, and he felt his mother's fingers grasp his, "Are you leaving, dear?" there was a tinge of fear and sadness in her voice, which he countered with a soft smile.

"I have work to do, as always- though I'm glad you allowed me to join you for tea. You know I always adore your company." he leaned down to kiss her cheek once more, before gently placing her hands in her lap.

"I'm sorry, my lord, I didn't mean to upset you." Lucille said. Conrart could have strangled her.

"Not to worry, my dear lady, you did no such thing. I wish you a good evening." he bowed, and left, the door clicking softly behind him.

It was as if he would never escape it, could never escape it- as if his entire life revolved around the war and the fact he was an eternal murderer.

He was sure, on his dying day, someone would utter something about Luttenberg and Conrad felt he would probably leap from his dying place and jab said person's eyes out with a stick, rock, his own fingers if he had to.

Luttenberg, curse that place. He should have died that day, Conrad was almost positive it would have been bliss.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Conrad, you okay?" Yuuri asked as he tossed the Shin Makoku-made baseball his way once more.

"I'm fine, your Majesty." he smiled, catching it easily. "Why do you ask?"

"You're really quiet today, aha.. sorry it might just be me- but are you maybe thinking about something? Like, a lot of things?"

Conrad paused, before throwing the ball back. "I've been thinking about how his Majesty's birthday is coming up." he grinned as Yuuri blushed.

"Ahh, not you too!" he laughed, "I can't go anywhere without hearing about it, Gunter's driving me crazy with it all."

Conrad laughed easily, "I'm sure he can't wait. It's not every day that one's king turns 18."

Yuuri rolled his eyes. "I don't know why it's such a big deal." he huffed, tossing the ball yet again. "I thought 16 was a big deal here, not 18."

"Every birthday of yours is important, Yuuri." Conrad said easily. "And 18 is when you're considered an Adult on Earth, no?"

Yuuri shook his head, "No, well.. that's only in America- we're considered adults when we turn 20 in Japan."

Conrad nodded. Twenty, huh.

Conrad wondered if he'd ever stop seeing Yuuri as a child.

He was so young and vibrant.. surely one day the face of a man and Yuuri's knowledge would stare Conrad in the face and force him to see the other as a man.. but until then, Conrad would forever see the boy before him as a precious child.

Innocent, care free and radiant, just as he was meant to be.

"Conrad, you're thinking too much again, you missed my throw." Yuuri laughed gently and Conrad couldn't help but hear Julia in his tone of voice.

"Hai, I apologize, Yuu-ri." he said with a charmed smile and a wink that caused Yuuri to laugh and roll his eyes as his godfather and favorite person collected the ball at his feet.

Yuuri couldn't think of a more perfect world.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Conrad was dreaming, which was rare, since he rarely slept these days.

Whenever he dreamed though- it was always like this, _Yuuri, Yuuri,_ _ **Yuuri.**_

He was holding the teen down by his wrists and taking him, over and over claiming him and thrusting deeply inside that young lithe form. Yuuri would scream his name, arch and writhe and ultimately beg Conrad for more, and he would never deny his king anything, least of all this.

In reality Yuuri was pure and innocent.. however his dream-Yuuri was far from reality.

His dreams never lasted long though before they became nightmares, and now instead of Yuuri, Conrad was thrusting into the cold lifeless and grotesque body of the late Susanna Julia.

Before he could even fully comprehend the change in bed partners, Conrad was awake and screaming.

Luckily however, Conrad's room was in the deepest most receded parts of the castle. He picked this room specifically because of his constant night-terrors after the war.. not to mention paranoia.

His room had no windows, and only one entrance which was heavily guarded, by locks and a hound with orange hair and blue eyes.

When he finally caught his breath he touched his face in disbelief.

He didn't know he was still capable of tears- even after Dai Cimaron, he had still been in denial.

That the heartless could weep.


End file.
